The White Tide

It risesin spirals of grasstwice a day,usuallyat the same hours. The hoofed bellsfrom the mountainsshatter the night’s edge,sending the milk flowinto circular songs. When you look atthe rows of labeled boxes,remember the starswrapped in prayers,the dreamswrapped in moonlight,the cows,and the tide.

New Horizons

Words –printed,or filling a screen. Theyare onlybellsswayinghesitantlyin long callsthat shakethe clouds. Betterlift your gazeaway from this textand let your wingsspread highuntil they touch the sky. (c) Marian C. Ghilea, 2021-2022artwork by Marian C. Ghilea

Neutral Ground

Dear citizen,we dwellon opposite shoreswashed bymismatched horizons. What you wantfrom the futureis going to burn downmy world. Yet,I’m a citizen,like you.I dream of lionsand sometimesspend long hourscounting stars. Maybeyou could comebefore nightfall.You can stand by meon this neutral ground. We shall waittogetherfor the starswhile […]